Two Years (Make Me Forget)
by writingonthebeach
Summary: For two years, Emma and Killian slept together. Until he gave her an ultimatum and she ran. Now she's pregnant, and they have to figure out how to build a proper relationship despite the pain of the previous two years. Captain Swan.
1. The First Time

**This idea's been in my head for a really long time, so I want to see where I can go with it. As a disclaimer for the whole story, I don't own OUaT, nor am I profiting from this.**

* * *

 **Chapter One: The First Time**

 **July 2009**

 _He didn't mean for it to happen the first time._

 _He had sworn to himself she was off limits. She was his best mate's sister. She was his friend. She was David's sister._

 _She had a boyfriend. He thought he was an ass, but one that she liked well enough, and he respected that, though he never approved._

 _But when she came to his apartment alone in the middle of the night, face blotchy, eyes red, hair mussed, it all changed._

* * *

 **September 2011**

She hadn't meant to come here. She hadn't wanted to come here.

She had just driven on autopilot, hastily throwing her stuff in the car. The four hour drive from Boston to Storybrooke had been a blur.

She shouldn't be here. He'd made his feelings clear enough last time—she wasn't welcome here anymore. He'd probably finally moved on, had a girlfriend.

But this was how it had always been between them. This was their pattern, and she couldn't help but follow it. She showed up, they fell into bed together, she ran away. Just because he'd told her they were finally done didn't mean she could abandon the habit so easily.

He opened the door dressed only in his boxers, his hair sticking out all over the place. His eyes had been groggy with sleep, but as they focused on her they narrowed into a grim expression.

"Killian," she breathed.

* * *

 _"Emma?"_

 _She pushed past him, sniffling as she made her way into his apartment. She flopped down on his couch, drawing her knees up to her chest as she curled into a ball and propped her head on her knees, staring straight ahead. She was dressed in oversized pajama pants and a thin tank top over a bra, her arms wrapped around herself. Killian stood in the doorway to his apartment, staring at her in disbelief._

 _"I hate him," she mumbled, not looking at Killian._

 _Killian's heart thudded in his chest. "Who?" He slowly closed the door behind himself._

 _Emma sniffed again. She seemed to be past the tears, which was both relieving and slightly frightening because Killian had never seen Emma Swan cry, despite everything she had been through. But she still stared blankly ahead, not turning her head as he sat down gingerly on the couch next to her. "My bastard of an ex-boyfriend."_

 _He couldn't help the hopeful pounding in his heart. "Ex-boyfriend?"_

 _Finally Emma turned her head to look at Killian, a scowl on her face. "The son of a bitch was cheating on me, fucking Tamara behind my back. For the last year! And then the sodding bastard went and shoplifted a jewelry store and had the fucking nerve to try to frame me, the piece of shit."_

 _The anger flared up in Killian's chest, and he curled his hands into fists. "Where is he?" he growled, eyes narrowing. "I'll kill him."_

 _Emma scowled again. "You better get in line because I'm going to rip his fucking heart out. If he even has one. Neal better be glad he's behind bars, because if David knew…" She continued to mutter obscenities under her breath, turning her head away from Killian._

 _"You didn't tell David?" Killian was surprised. David was her adopted brother. She told him everything. For her to tell Killian instead…_

 _Emma's mutterings cut off, and he saw the lines in her body tense. "No." After another tense moment, she shook her head and turned to look at Killian again. "I couldn't think about how angry he would be with Neal, or how disappointed he would be with me. He told me—he warned—" Her voice choked up, and she blinked rapidly, turning her head away again._

 _Something in Killian's heart twinged. This was something new for Emma. She was often pissed off. She would swear like a sailor, but she had reached a new level tonight. What he never saw from her was vulnerability. She never opened up, never cried._

 _But when she had come over tonight, she had clearly been crying earlier, and she was starting to again._

 _He let his anger fade away. The rage still boiled underneath his skin, and he wanted to kill Neal for doing that to Emma, but she didn't want to see anger. He'd had the same thoughts as David, that Neal was no good for her. But he'd let David say those things to Emma, because he was her brother. He'd played the part of the best friend, respected how she felt, keeping his thoughts to himself about how he thought Neal was a piece of shit._

 _What Emma needed right now wasn't an avenger. That's why she hadn't gone to David, who would have rushed off to punch Neal in the face._

 _What Emma needed now—as much as she wouldn't admit it, ever—was a comforter. She needed someone who would comfort her. Killian had to bite back the urge to kill Neal and be what she needed him to be._

 _He would always be whatever she needed him to be._

* * *

Emma pushed past him into the apartment, dropping her bag on the floor as she went in. It was the exact same as it had been for the past two years, ever since they'd graduated from college and he'd moved out of the flat he shared with David to have his own apartment. Killian closed the door behind her.

"Emma, love, I told you I can't do this anymore," Killian sighed from behind her.

She stood in the middle of the living room, back to him, chewing her bottom lip. She had her reason for coming here, but she couldn't tell him. Not yet.

Talking had never been her strong point.

"Give me a good reason for why you're here, Swan," Killian said, his voice hardening. She turned slowly to face him. He stood in front of the closed front door, his arms crossed over his chest as his lips pressed into a thin line.

Emma shook her head.

"You can't talk? You can never bloody talk," he growled, shaking his head. He paced across the room in frustration.

Emma stared blankly at the door in front of her. She had worked so hard to keep herself together on the drive over here, but her walls were shattering. It was too much. She couldn't do it, couldn't keep the composure. Her eyes were hot with unshed tears, her throat thick. A small noise escaped her throat as she angrily brushed away the start of tears.

Killian stood across the room, staring at her angrily. She could feel his eyes on hers, and she slowly met his gaze. Normally his eyes were a bright, dancing blue. She loved looking into his eyes. Now they were a dark and stormy color, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Staring at him, taking him in, Emma started to lose it. The tears started coming down her face more now, and she turned away from him to try to get rid of them. She refused to cry over this. Her life wasn't falling apart. Not like last time.

"Bloody hell, Swan," Killian growled, walking up behind her. He wrapped his arms around her middle, pressing his warm, bare chest against her back, his arms strong around her. His head bent so his lips rested on her shoulder, bare from where her sweater had slipped down.

A small sob escaped her, her body shaking, and Killian's hand came up to stroke her hair. "Ssshh," he murmured, the warm breath from his lips brushing against her ear. "It's alright, love."

* * *

 _"It's alright, love," Killian said, reaching out and putting a gentle hand on Emma's shoulder. She jumped at the contact, turning to look at him guiltily. He saw there was a fresh wave of tears on her face, and it nearly broke his heart._

 _He let himself break the rules he had carefully set up. He slid closer to Emma, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her into an embrace against his side. She buried her head against his chest, reaching up and tangling a hand in his shirt as she gripped it tightly. Her body shook as she sobbed, and he held her and rocked her and murmured soothing words until she was cried out, limp against his body._

 _"I hate him," she whispered against his shirt. "And the worst part is I still feel like I love him, even though I want to hate him." She sniffed, raising her head to look at Killian. He removed his hand from where it had been resting on her head. "Is this what a broken heart feels like?"_

 _He thought about how his own heart felt. His had certainly broken, looking at this strong woman on his couch reduced to something so frail and fragile. "I imagine so, love."_

 _"I never want to be in love again," Emma said vehemently, shaking her head and causing the blonde curls to fall down around her face. She still gripped Killian's shirt tightly, still leaned her body against his. Killian's heart cringed at her declaration._

 _"It gets better, Emma, I promise," Killian said, meeting her green eyes, still so beautiful and bright despite the tears. He brushed the hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear._

 _Emma swallowed, her hand shifting on Killian's shirt as she slowly pulled him closer. She rested her forehead against his, and his heart pounded at the proximity._

 _"Emma," he protested weakly, his voice a hoarse croak. She was nearly in his lap by now, having inched closer._

 _"Make me forget," she breathed, her lips moving dangerously close to his._

 _He shook his head. "You're distraught, and you're upset, but in the morning—"_

 _"Shut up, Killian," she whispered, leaning forward and pressing her lips to his._

* * *

Emma twisted in Killian's embrace. He pulled back so that their eyes met. His eyes were a bit brighter, not so stormy, and the angry line of his lips had lessened. She reached up between them, trailing her fingers down the stubble on his jaw. He just held her gaze, making her feel like he was looking inside of her.

"Make me forget," Emma whispered.

His brow furrowed, something flickering through his eyes. "Swan…"

Emma shook her head, leaning forward and placing fevered kisses along his bare collarbone. "Shut up, Killian," she breathed in response, not accepting his denial. She kissed up his neck, on his jawbone lined with scruff. "Make me feel something. Anything but this." She placed a light, lingering kiss on his lips.

Killian let out a frustrated growl, and then his hand was tangling in her hair and his mouth was on hers, hot and demanding. She yielded to his touch, molding her body against his. This was what she needed. This was how she needed to forget.

Her hands slid along his back, one hand going up to the back of his neck to pull him even closer to her. The other hand dipped down below the waist of his boxers, teasing as it slid intimately along the warm skin.

His other hand, the one not tangled in her hair, wrapped around her waist, slid underneath the edge of her shirt. Fingers gripped tightly at her skin as he slowly walked her backwards until she was falling down on the couch.

Killian stood above her, breathing heavily for a moment. His eyes had darkened again as he stared down at her, sprawled across the couch. She blinked up at him.

"You can't do this," Killian said in a rough growl, lowering himself down carefully on top of her. His weight pressed against her gently, his face buried in the crook of her neck as he placed a soft kiss there. The scruff of his stubble scraped against her. "I told you—You can't just come in here like this and expect me to…" He trailed off, shaking his head and raising himself up to look at her. "Damn you, Swan, damn you."

She met his face. He was angry, frustrated with her, and she was helpless to do anything about it. She could only use it.

Killian kissed her again, long and hard and demanding, making her body arch off the couch as she tried to draw closer to him. Then he pulled back, leaving her lying there again. After a few heartbeats of them staring at each other, he reached out a hand. She took it, and he led her to his bedroom.

This part, the physical part, that she could do, and that was what she needed right now. And she knew he would give it to her, regardless of what he had said. He had always been there for her, whatever she needed.

* * *

 _"Emma, are you sure?"_

 _They were in his bedroom. Killian stood at the side of the bed dressed in only his sweats, his shirt discarded somewhere on the other side of the room. Emma was on his bed, in just her bra and underwear. He'd had to fight to pull away as she drew them into bed and began removing their clothes._

 _It had been the hardest thing he'd ever tried to do. Emma Swan, the woman he had wanted for as long as he'd known her, was on his bed in just her underwear, and she looked fucking fantastic in it, black fabric against pale skin and slim curves and blonde hair and flashing green eyes. She wanted him to join her in bed._

 _"Killian, come here," she insisted, spreading her hand out on the bed next to her._

 _He shook his head, pacing along the side the of the bed to avoid looking at her. "You're not thinking straight. We can't do this. You're just hurt because Neal hurt you and you're just looking for someone to make you feel better and—"_

 _She had reached out and grabbed his wrist, halting his pacing, her fingers surprisingly strong as they gripped him. "Tell me you don't want this, Killian. Tell me that truthfully, and I'll go away."_

 _He looked down at her, so vulnerable and open on his bed. She had broken up with Neal. He had been the entire reason Killian had forced himself to stay away from Emma, from making his intentions more clear. He wanted her, wanted her badly, but couldn't bring himself to ruin her relationship in order to have her._

 _But now that Neal was gone…_

 _"Damn you, Swan," he swore, pulling his hand free so that he could yank down his sweats and toss them aside. He wasn't wearing anything else underneath._

 _She gave him a small smile, reaching behind her back and unhooking her bra, tossing it on the floor, and she was nearly bare on his bed. She reached up for him, and he went to her willingly. He covered her body with his, kissing her fiercely, his hand trailing down her side to tug at the last barrier of clothes between them._

* * *

He was above her and moving inside her, his body wonderfully hard as his hands moved over her body and made her forget. She tried to lose herself in this rhythm, the sound of his breathing in her ear, the feel of his hands gripping her hips as he drove himself into her.

Emma wrapped her arms around his waist, one hand sliding down to grip his ass, pulling him against her harder. She pressed her face against his shoulder, screwing her eyes shut.

It wasn't working. She wasn't getting lost in this like she wanted to. It was only bringing back memories from two months ago, from the fateful last time they had done this. The memories were hazy, clouded from the alcohol that both of them had drank much too much of.

And thinking about two months made her think about why she was here, what had happened in the bathroom today to make her rush back to Killian, once again, because she needed him, damn him.

With that thought, the last remains of her walls crumbled, and the tears began to flow, hot and heavy on her cheeks as she continued to move against Killian, still trying to deny the emotions and believe the lie.

Killian's pace slowed. "Swan?" She shook her head, eyes still screwed shut so she didn't have to see the concern on his face. She reached for him, trying to bring him back, but he pulled away. "Emma, you're…crying." He slid out of her, getting off of her so he sat next to her on the bed. "Emma, love—"

The tears were flowing now, the sobs making her shoulders shake. He reached for her, touching her shoulder, bur she rolled over and curled up on her side, arms wrapped around her stomach as she cried.

He didn't say anything else. He just slid down on the bed next to her, wrapping his body around hers, sliding an arm underneath her head to cushion it, the other around her stomach holding her own hands. He pressed a light kiss to her shoulder blade, and let her cry herself out.

* * *

 _They'd dozed off afterwards, Emma wrapped in Killian's arms, him staring down at her like he couldn't believe what had just happened._

 _He'd just slept with Emma Swan, the girl of his dreams, his best friend's sister, the girl he'd wanted for forever._

 _She had been eager and willing, pliable and melting under his hands. He'd never heard anything as amazing as her little breathy gasps and moans, and when she had gripped him tightly and urged him to go harder and deeper he'd almost lost it then._

 _And now, she was curled up in his arms in bed, both of them still naked, as if they fell asleep together all of the time._

 _But something was wrong. She wasn't_ his, _not really. He didn't know what would happen when they woke up, and he was scared she would run. She would come to her senses, be horrified at what she did. If he was lucky, she'd only run away from him and not back to Neal. If he wasn't…_

 _The thought made him grit his teeth and grip her tighter._

 _She made a soft noise in her sleep, rolling over and nuzzling her head against his chest. "Killian," she murmured, still half asleep._

 _He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. She was his, for now, and he would be content with that if it was all he could ever have. He would take her any way he could get her. He'd fallen back asleep after that._

 _When he woke up again, it was to Emma flailing in bed as she frantically tried to untangle herself from the sheets and from him._

 _"Shit shit shit shit," she muttered, shaking her head as she began moving desperately around his room, gathering up her clothes._

 _Killian frowned, his brow furrowed as he tried to get his mind to work and catch back up to what was happening. "Emma?"_

 _She froze like a deer in headlights, paused as she bent over to grab her bra, looking at him with a terrified expression. "Killian."_

 _His heart sank. It was what he was scared of. He sighed, getting out of bed. Emma warily stepped away from him, clutching her clothes to her. He leaned down and picked up her bra, holding it out to her as if it was a peace offering. She gave him a confused look as she took it and added it to her bundle._

 _"You can shower if you like before you leave," Killian said slowly, hating the words coming out of his mouth and hating even more the words he knew were still coming. "I promise I'm not going to make you breakfast or anything, but I'll make myself coffee and there will be some extra that you can steal for yourself, if you like." Like any of the hundred other times she had come over and raided his kitchen for food or bribed him into cooking for her. "We don't have to talk about this ever again if you don't want, and I promise I won't tell anyone."_

 _As he spoke, her face turned into that of wonder as she cocked her head, looking at him. "Thank you," she whispered._

 _Killian nodded, hating himself as they stood across from each other, naked after a night of passion, and he was letting her go. "Just promise me one thing."_

 _She didn't say or do anything, just waited for him to continue._

 _Killian took a deep breath. "Promise me you won't go back to him. Promise me the two of you are done for good, and you'll move on past him and find someone else. Someone good for you, who truly loves you and deserves you." Her eyes widened, and he internally cursed himself for what he knew she was thinking. "It doesn't have to be me, Swan. I know it's never been me." She'd always chosen Neal, and Killian was just convenient and free last night. "Just make it not him."_

 _She nodded. "I promise."_

* * *

When her crying had slowed, Killian had handed her a pair of his sweats and an oversized flannel and pushed her towards the bathroom. She'd gone quietly, knowing she needed to clean up. She stared at herself in the mirror, wishing her eyes didn't get so red when she cried. It was one of the reasons she didn't like crying, though there were far worse reasons as well.

She knew she couldn't stay in here forever. She had to go back out there and face him, to explain herself. Slowly, as if she was facing a firing squad, she opened the door and stood in the doorway.

Killian was lounging on top of the covers of his bed. He wore a t-shirt and his boxer shorts, laying there as he waited for her. He stared up at the ceiling, hands folded behind his head.

"Are you aware, Swan, that in all the years I have known you, I have only seen you cry twice, tonight included?"

She swallowed, staying by the door. The flannel was large and baggy, making her feel like she could hide in it. The sleeves fell down past her hands, and she pushed them up a bit as she brushed her hair out of her face.

"When I saw you tonight, I had every intention of turning you away," he continued, his voice grim. She wrapped her arms around herself, head bowed. "I told you we were done, that I couldn't do this anymore."

She heard movement, and she glanced at him. He'd turned his head to study her. "But when I saw you cry, I was just as powerless as that first time. I couldn't help it. I can't control myself around you, Swan, and that's why I told you this had to end. It's been two years of this, of you using me, and it has to stop."

Emma nodded, and he sighed, sitting up. "Are you okay now, love?"

She nodded again.

He pursed his lips, dropping his gaze. "Why did you come tonight? After…the last time?"

Emma didn't respond. Instead, she walked out of his bedroom. She walked out to the living room, moving mechanically as she went to her bag. She rifled through it, looking for the ziplock bag.

When she found it, she carried it back to Killian's bedroom, refusing to look at it as she gripped it tightly in her hands. Killian gave her a quizzical look as she walked back up to him and held it out.

"This," Emma murmured, not meeting his gaze as he took the bag from her.

He frowned in confusion, staring at the contents. She stood in front of him, biting her thumb to keep herself from breaking down again.

"Emma, is this…are you pregnant?"

* * *

 **Let me know your thoughts and review!**


	2. Damn You

**Chapter Two: Damn You**

 **September 2011**

The two of them sat on the couch, side by side, not touching and not speaking. Emma stared at her feet braced on the coffee table, in one of Killian's pairs of fuzzy socks. They were both fully dressed, though Emma wore more of Killian's clothes than her own.

"Fuck this," Killian muttered, shaking his head. He padded into the kitchen, and Emma saw him reach for the bottle of rum he kept on top of the fridge. She made a noise in her throat, and he glanced at her, fingers wrapped around the neck of the bottle.

Her cheeks heated, and she dropped her gaze, looking at her hands clasped in her lap. "That's how we got into this mess, remember?"

He grumbled an incoherent response, and she glanced up to see him moving to the stove instead. Killian filled the tea kettle with water, setting it on the stovetop to heat. He continued to move around the kitchen, getting out two mugs. He waited for the water, hands braced stiffly against the counter as he leaned over it and stared down at the mugs.

Emma stared down at the ziplock bag on the coffee table, holding the incriminating pregnancy test. She couldn't make out the little pink plus from this far away, but she felt like it was glaring at her.

She heard the sound of the kettle whistling, and Killian pouring them water. There was the soft clinking of a spoon against ceramic, and then he was handing her a hot mug. She inhaled deeply, smelling the hot chocolate that he'd made them.

It made her heart ache. He knew just what she needed. She loved coffee, needed it in the morning as her caffeine fix. But hot chocolate was her ultimate comfort drink. She smiled as she saw that he'd even put cinnamon in hers, despite his adamant arguments that cinnamon was not a fit food for anyone, much less intended to go with chocolate.

She leaned forward to put her mug on the coffee table. Killian made a strangled noise, leaning forward to stop her.

Emma rolled her eyes, opening one of the drawers to the coffee table and pulling out a coaster. "Still just as OCD as always, I see."

"I like keeping my things neat," Killian protested.

"Anal."

"Neat."

The two of them exchanged small smiles at the familiar banter. Killian leaned back on the couch as Emma set her drink down to cool for a bit. She remained leaning forward, braced on her legs.

"That test…you're sure?" Killian asked, voice hesitant.

Emma nodded, burying her face in her hands. "I took four."

"When?"

"This afternoon."

"So it must have happened at the…"

"Yes," Emma mumbled into her hands, shaking her head.

* * *

 **July 2011**

 _As David led Mary Margaret down to the dance floor to take their first dance as husband and wife, Killian glanced across the two empty seats at Emma. As the maid of honor, she had sat on Mary Margaret's other side, while he sat next to David as his best man. She'd avoided looking at him whenever she could during the wedding ceremony._

 _She was the most beautiful women he had ever seen, with her strapless dress showing off the line of her neck, and most of her hair piled up in an elegantly messy bug on top of her head with only a few strategic curls hanging down. She beamed at the newlyweds as the music started and David began to whirl Mary Margaret around on the dance floor._

 _Killian dragged his gaze off of Emma, forcing himself to look at his best friends dancing. He could see the love and utter adoration in their faces as they gazed at each other. Their eyes shone, and anyone looking at them could see that they were truly in love._

 _He gripped his wineglass tighter in his hand, wishing that it had something stronger than wine in it. He glanced at Emma again, only barely resisting the urge to glare at her._

 _That damn woman didn't know what she did to him. It had been three months since he'd seen her—three fucking months—and she hadn't contacted him in all that time or responded to any of his calls. After all they'd been through, and she ignored him._

 _It killed him. He couldn't bear to be away from her that long. Ever since their strange relationship had started, they hadn't gone longer than a month without…seeing each other._

 _David and Mary Margaret were gesturing at him. Their dance had ended, and he realized it was time for him and Emma to join them on the floor, as best man and maid of honor._

 _Killian got to his feet, turning to face Emma. She was resolutely looking down at her wine in the glass, not paying him any attention. He moved to her side, holding out his hand._

 _She looked slowly up at him, her brow furrowed as she bit her bottom lip._

 _"You can't avoid me forever, love," he said, lips quirked._

 _She sighed, and the fight seemed to go out of her face as she took his hand and rose to her feet. "No. I can't."_

* * *

Killian groaned. "I thought you were on birth control."

Emma took a deep breath, picking up her mug and cupping it between her hands. She sat back on the couch, staring down into the chocolate depths. "I kind of…stopped. After…you know."

"You mean after you ran out on me and then refused to answer my calls?" Killian growled. She glanced at him to see his knuckles had gone faintly white where he clutched his mug tightly.

She shook her head, biting her lip. "Killian, I—"

"Why didn't you make us use protection?" he demanded.

Emma glared at her hot chocolate. "If I remember correctly, we were both drunk off our asses."

"It's been two months, Swan. It took you that long to figure it out?"

"I thought I was just late."

"Two months?"

She slammed down the mug on the table, not caring that it splashed over and got some hot chocolate on his nice wooden table. She turned her glare on him, shifting on the couch to face him. "Damn it, Killian, I didn't _want it_ to be true. You remember the last time I thought I was pregnant."

The angry scowl faded a bit off his face, and he looked away from her. She knew he didn't like remembering that night any more than she did. It was the second time they'd slept together—she'd thought she was pregnant with Neal's child. When she'd broken down, refusing to tell him what had happened, they'd slept together. And when that had proved to be too much, she'd told him everything.

Her period had been late, then. It wasn't this time.

"So what happens now? You run off again, like you always do?" Killian's voice still held the hard edge, and even though he was turned away she could see the stiff set to his jaw.

" _You_ kicked _me_ out last time," Emma reminded him, wrapping her arms tightly around herself.

He turned to look at her, his eyes dark and his brow furrowed. _"You_ ran out on _me_ before that. I was perfectly justified—"

"You had no right!"

"I had every right!"

The two of them had leaned forward, glaring at each other, faces inches away. Emma stared at the lines on his face, at the deep set to his brow, the tense lines in his body. He still gripped his mug tightly, and she held her arms closer to her to prevent her from reaching out to him.

They stayed there for a moment, both of them breathing heavily, staring at each other. Emma felt a bit of the anger boil out of her, and she sighed, dropping her gaze.

"So now what?" she echoed softly.

"I don't know, love."

* * *

 _Killian leaned back in his chair, nursing his glass of rum that he'd procured from the bar. He watched Emma dance with David as Mary Margaret stood off to the side and laughed._

 _Emma hadn't exchanged a single word with Killian as they'd danced together. She'd avoided looking at him, her gaze downcast as they danced together. He couldn't describe how good it had felt to have her hand in his, to have her body pressed up against his once more, to smell her sweet scent, and yet she had been so closed off. It had been all wrong._

 _He was pissed at her. She'd ignored him, after everything they'd been through. He'd_ needed _her those past three months, more than he'd ever needed her. He didn't even need_ Emma _, the girl who slept in his bed, but just Emma, the girl who'd always been his best friend. The girl who'd always been there for him, the girl he'd always been there for. When he'd truly needed her, she hadn't been there._

 _He'd drunk himself into oblivion too much the past three months, trying to cope with Liam's death. She'd been there that first night, to help him through it. And then she'd left, and no matter how much he needed her she didn't return._

 _Killian slammed the drink down on the table, pushing himself to his feet. He strode across the dance floor, where Emma had just relinquished David to Mary Margaret. He stood behind the blonde, cursing himself for what he was about to do._

 _"May I have the next dance, love?"_

 _He saw her body stiffen as she turned, already shaking her head. "I'm not—" He didn't wait for her to finish her sentence. He stepped forward, wrapping one arm around her as his other hand found hers. "Killian," she protested weakly, shaking her head._

 _Killian turned her around, directing her steps in a dance. He pulled her closer so that their bodies were flush against each other, and it sent a rush of heat through him to have her that close._

 _"Why did you leave?" he asked in a low voice, leaning forward so that his forehead pressed against hers as they danced._

 _"I—I didn't—" Emma stuttered, trying to pull away. He gripped her tightly so that she couldn't leave. "You did."_

 _"Killian, I—"_

 _"Do you know the hell I've gone through in these past three months?" He demanded in a low voice._

 _She shook her head, and he finally saw the fire flash through her eyes as she yanked herself away from him. The two of them faced each other on the edge of the dance floor, poised inches away from each other. "Don't you dare start with me, Killian Jones. You don't know what I—"_

 _He shook his head, holding up a hand to stop her. "Are you saying that you had it worse than me? Is that what you're trying to say, Emma Swan?"_

 _Her hands curled into fists. "Let me finish."_

 _"Oh, I'll make sure you finish," Killian growled, accent thick. He grabbed her hand and pulled her off the dance floor, winding their way through the tables. He went to the bar, where he managed to snag a bottle of rum, and then he led her out of the reception area._

 _"Where are you going?" Emma demanded, planting her feet and refusing to move once they were in the lobby of the hotel._

 _Killian turned to face her, gripping the neck of the bottle tightly. "We're in a bloody hotel. We're going somewhere we can talk, love. I'd ask your room or mine, but it's obvious you prefer going to my place so you can sneak out afterwards."_

 _She narrowed her eyes at the insult, but followed him to the elevator._

* * *

"You're staying the night," Killian said, breaking the silence that had fallen between the two of them. She glanced sideways at him, but he wasn't looking at her. "And don't even think of running out on me again, Swan." He got up, striding angrily across the room to the hall closet.

Emma dropped her eyes in shame, biting her lip. "But what do we do about…" she trailed off, unable to voice the problem that she was now facing.

There was a soft thump besides her, and she saw that Killian had tossed down extra blankets and a pillow on the sofa next to her. She looked up at him, frowning.

"It is two in the morning right now. We'll talk about it later at a decent hour," Killian said shortly. "I'm not in any temper to discuss things rationally right now."

Emma nodded. "Okay," she said softly. She owed him that much, at least. She would spend the night, and they would talk about this in the morning and figure it out. She set her hot chocolate down, getting up and starting to set up the bed.

Killian's hands gently pushed hers away, and he took over the task. She stepped back, pressing her knuckles to her lips again.

"You're sleeping in my bed," he said gruffly, not looking at her.

Her brow furrowed. "Then what's that for?" she asked as he extended the futon to make a full size bed. He threw the pillow on one end, straightening up to look at her.

"Me."

She cocked her head, glancing back at his bedroom. She understood him not wanting to sleep with her. She wanted the comfort of sleeping with him, but she knew he was hurting right now.

"I'll sleep on the couch," Emma said, stepping forward. "It's your bed."

He held up a hand to stop her, pointing towards the bedroom. "You're pregnant. Take the damn bed, love."

"I'm not suddenly delicate," Emma snapped, arms crossing furiously.

"I know you are not, Swan, but I'm an arse who still believes in being a gentleman despite whatever emotions I may feel, and you. Are. Sleeping. In. The. Fucking. Bed."

She scowled again, but spun on her heel. "Damn you, Jones."

"Damn you, Swan."

She slammed the door to his bedroom behind her. She paused, hand still quivering on the door knob, and stared at the mussed up sheets on his bed, where he had been sprawled out naked not too long ago.

Her heart pounded. She felt way too many things for this man, way too many things that she was not supposed to be feeling. And she didn't think she could put them down to pregnancy hormones.

Sighing, Emma stripped off clothes until she just wore her underwear, and she yanked open the bottom drawer to Killian's dresser, where he kept his t-shirts. She grabbed one out, pulling it on over her head as she went to get into bed.

As she bent over to rearrange the sheets, she caught a glimpse of the shirt she was wearing. It was an Irish Navy shirt, and she froze, memories flooding her. He had this shirt because of Liam. Liam who had died, Liam whose death had brought her back here to Killian and changed everything between them.

Swearing, she wrestled with the shirt until it was off, stuffing it in the bottom of the drawer. She grabbed another shirt out, pulling it on over her head.

"Fuck," Emma muttered, slipping into Killian's bed and turning out the light. She stared up at the ceiling in the dark, not knowing what she and Killian were going to do. She slipped a hand underneath her shirt, pressing it against her still flat stomach. Her heart pounded. She wasn't ready to have a kid. Ever. And the relationship that she and Killian had…it was nothing like a child's parents should have. She couldn't even define the relationship that she and Killian had, but if it was up to him, they wouldn't have anything right now anyway.

* * *

 _They stared at each other, both standing in the entrance to the door. The single queen sized bed was off to the side, glaring at them. Killian held the bottle of rum in his hand._

 _Finally, Killian lifted the bottle up and opened it, tossing the cap aside. He lifted the bottle to his lips, taking a straight swig of the rum. Without saying anything, he held it out and passed it to Emma. She took it, holding it up to her mouth. She grimaced, her eyes closing momentarily, but then she took another draught and passed it back to him._

 _He took another quick swig, shaking his head to clear it as he walked over to the nightstand and set the bottle down hard, the noise echoing in the silent room. Killian didn't turn to face Emma, still fuming._

 _"Time for you to finish, Swan," Killian growled, hands balled into fists at his side. She didn't answer, and he spun around. She was gnawing on her lip, arms wrapped around her. "Three_ months _. What do you have that can justify three fucking months of silence, when I'd always talked to you every single week before that?"_

 _She shook her head, arms dropping in anger as more curls fell loose from her bun and whipped around her face. "Killian, do you—"_

 _"Do you know what I went through?" he demanded, striding forward to stand in front of her again. Emotions were coursing through him, and the rum, and all the alcohol from earlier. This woman had hurt him, and hurt him badly. He grabbed her arms, forcing her to look up at him. "My brother—"_

 _"Your brother died," Emma snapped. "Fuck, I know that, Killian." She reached out and shoved against his chest so he was forced back a couple of steps. Her green eyes flashed, hands on her hips. "You're going to let me finish, Jones, and you're not going to talk," she growled, stalking forward and forcing him to take a step back from the intensity of her gaze and words. "You're going to be quiet, and you're going to listen to me, because I know you hurt like hell but I hurt too and you're not letting me say a damn thing!"_

 _She was glaring at him, and a part of him felt bad for how he was acting towards her. A small part._

 _"Fine," he muttered, shaking his head and moving to get away from her. He grabbed the bottle of rum, flopping onto the bed with his back against the headrest. He took another draught, and then gestured for her to continue. "Floor's all yours_ , love _." He hit the word hard, seeing her wince._

 _"Give me that," she snapped, tossing her head back and taking another long sip of the rum. She set it down on the table, her arms crossed as she glared down at him. "Do you even remember what happened that night?"_

 _He didn't know if he was allowed to speak. It sounded like it could have been a rhetorical question, and with her glaring at him like that, he thought any answer he gave her would result in his head being bitten off. He just scowled at her._

 _"I get a call from Mary Margaret._ Mary Margaret _, of all people. Your brother dies, and you don't even tell me. She told me you were holed up in your apartment and refused to come out. When I showed up, there were empty bottles everywhere, and you were on the couch, sobbing," Emma said, voice sharp. "I've never seen you so_ pissed _before."_

 _Her voice was starting to waver, but she forced it to continue. Killian noticed the shift in tone. Her eyes weren't as intense as they glared at him now, but she was clenching her hands even tighter. She hit the word_ pissed _hard, sparking a small memory in the back of his mind about how she always made fun of his slang. She wasn't mocking it tonight._

 _"That night was different. When we—" Emma hesitated, shaking her head, and her arms dropped down at her sides. Killian knew what she was trying to say. They'd had sex that night. A lot of that time was fuzzy in his memory, but he remembered that. She scowled, screwing up her eyes as she shook her head again. "It was different, Killian, and you know it."_

 _Something_ had _been different. He had been vaguely aware of it. She'd come for him that night, and not because she needed something from him. He'd done absolutely nothing for her, unlike every other time she'd come._

 _"And I left because—I left because—goddammit," Emma swore. She grabbed the bottle again and gulped more down. She jabbed a finger at him. "You were drunk off your ass. You can't call any judgments on me. I got you through that night, damn it, and if it weren't for me you might have drowned in that fucking rum."_

 _He yanked the bottle out of her hand, not wanting to hear her words. He downed some more of it, putting it aside as he got to his feet. Emma stepped back, startled at his sudden closeness._

 _"That doesn't explain why you didn't even call," he said quietly, his face inches away from hers._

 _He knew Emma well. He understood her, knew how to read her face. But now, as several emotions crossed her face in rapid succession, he didn't know what to think. Something was wrong between them, and she couldn't talk about it. She could never talk about it._

 _"Do you know what you said that night?" she asked, just as quietly. "Do you remember what you said to me?"_

 _His heart plummeted. He didn't know what he had said to her, but he had a sneaking suspicion. He knew that look in her eyes. She wasn't angry. She was frightened. He had said something that scared her to her core, and there was only one thing he could say that would do that._

 _He hadn't said it…had he?_

 _"Swan, don't say you left because of what I said," he murmured, voice cracking as he shook his head. He couldn't have her put this all on him. He couldn't have her blame him for their hellish three months of separation. He didn't think he could bear it._

 _"I didn't," she scowled. She fidgeted for a moment, and then shook her head roughly. "Damn you, Jones." She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him towards her angrily as she kissed him fiercely._

 _He wanted to fight. He wanted to fight her. But it had been three fucking months, and he had missed her. He turned them around and they tumbled onto the bed._

* * *

Emma awoke to a blaring sound. She blinked groggily, trying to figure out what it was and where it was coming from. She reached out for where she kept her alarm clock, surprised when she didn't find it.

She raised her head, blinking and taking in the room. She realized she was in Killian's bed, and it was Killian's alarm going off.

As that thought registered, Killian himself came into the room, moving quickly and quietly. He turned off the alarm.

"I'm sorry about that, love," he murmured, gaze downcast and avoiding her. "I had been planning on…it doesn't matter. Go back to sleep if you like."

"No," Emma muttered, shaking her head and sitting up. She brushed her hair out of her face and tried to force herself to wake up more.

Killian finally glanced at her. His eyes flicked down to the shirt she wore, and she saw the corner of his mouth lift up in a tiny smile. As quickly as it had come, it disappeared and his gaze dropped again. "Coffee's in the kitchen," he said brusquely, turning and leaving her alone in the bedroom.

She stared at the closed door, sighing. Today was going to be hell.

Emma got up, looking around and realizing that her bag with all her clothes was still out in the living room. She trudged out of the room, making her way through the living room. She bent over to grab her bag, slinging it over her shoulder and standing up.

As she stood up, she caught a glimpse of Killian hastily looking away from her and taking a sip of his coffee. He winced, spitting the coffee back in his mug and swearing.

Emma gave a small smile, ducking her head so he couldn't see. When she'd walked out of his room, she had forgotten she was just wearing her underwear and his t-shirt, and she was pretty sure she'd just caught him staring at her.

She started to head back to his bedroom, but the makeshift bed on the couch caught her eye. She hadn't noticed the blanket he slept under when he'd set it up last night. The anchors and steering wheels decorated the blanket, reminding her of another memory, another night of sleeping under that blanket, and her face flushed and her heart pounded.

She got dressed quickly, pulling her hair into a messy braid to get it out of her face. She went back out to the kitchen, grabbing the second mug of coffee that was already sitting on the counter. She slipped into one of the bar stools, staring at Killian in the kitchen.

He was making eggs, and she could see the large, open bag of shredded cheese next to the stove. He was making eggs the way she liked, and he was making more than he himself could eat. It made her heart ache. He really was a good man, and this really wasn't fair to him.

"I want you to move in with me."

She nearly choked swallowing her coffee. "The hell, Killian?" she gasped, staring at him.

He shrugged, still focused on the eggs and not looking at her. "Or at least to Storybrooke. It doesn't have to be my apartment if you don't want. But I think that would be best for…him. Or her."

Her eyebrows rose, and she took another long sip of coffee. God, she wasn't awake enough for this conversation. "Last time you saw me you told me to get the hell out of your life, and now you want me to move in?"

"Last time I saw you you weren't pregnant."

"Not until after we had sex," Emma muttered, cupping her mug and hunching her shoulders up as she inhaled deeply.

"Regardless, I'm not going to abandon the child. Not like my father," Killian said, his voice hard.

Emma blinked, remembering that she wasn't the only one who'd had one hell of a time growing up. "Killian, you and I…I don't know…" her heart thudded in her chest.

Killian sighed, sliding the eggs out of the pan and onto two plates where toast was already waiting. He turned to face her, still holding the empty pan. "I don't know either, Emma. I don't know what's happening with us, and I don't know what we are," he said softly. "But, whatever it is, whatever _this_ is, there's more than just us in the equation now. We have to figure something out, and I know neither of us want that kid to have a life like we did."

She nodded, taking a deep breath. She didn't know what to say. She'd prepared herself for more yelling this morning, more of Killian's anger. That's all she had seen lately, but she hadn't been prepared for this. A rational Killian, being just as sweet as he had always been.

Being just as perfect as he had always been.

She forced down another large swallow of coffee as he set down the plate in front of her.

"Please, Emma. Just…stay. At least in Storybrooke," he said softly. She met his eyes, and they were a sad blue this morning. Nostalgic. Bright blue, but not dancing.

Emma nodded, setting down her mug. "Okay."

* * *

 _They'd been laying there together, trying to catch their breath and recover. Killian's head was already beginning to pound from the large amounts of alcohol that he had consumed that night. He and Emma were on opposite halves of the bed, both of them silently laying on their backs and staring at the ceiling. Still naked, still sweaty, still breathing hard._

 _They'd done it again. Just fallen mindlessly into bed. Emma had yet again avoided talking about her feelings, and he'd yet again been too caught up in his overwhelming need to_ have _her. It was the exact same thing that happened every time._

 _But he remembered the cannonball that had ripped through him after the last time. When, still lost in the throes of grief for his newly dead brother, he'd woken up to find that she'd left him too. He didn't have Liam anymore, and he didn't have Emma. She'd left him._

 _Killian shook his head angrily, sitting up and putting his head in his hands. "Get out, Emma."_

 _She stirred next to him, propping herself up on her elbows. "What?"_

 _He growled, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes until he saw stars. "I can't do this anymore. You can't ever fucking talk, and all we do is fall into bed. You show up and we have sex and then you leave and that's_ it _and I can't do it anymore, Swan. Either you stay for good, or you get the hell out. And since I know you can't fucking commit, get out."_

 _She didn't say anything, but he felt the weight shift on the bed as she got out of bed. "Killian, I…" He shook his head, and she trailed off. He heard the rustle of fabric, and the sound of a zipper. He doubted she could get the zipper up all the way without help, but he wasn't about to offer and he knew she wasn't about to ask. He heard footsteps, and then they paused._

 _"I'm sorry, Killian," she whispered. "I'm sorry I'm too weak to tell you why I left. I'm sorry I'm too broken to stay, and I'm sorry for this."_

 _He didn't say anything. His heart was being torn to shreds as he forced her out. It was the woman he loved, and he was forcing her to leave his life. But he knew if she stayed, it would only lead to greater heartbreak over and over again._

 _She opened the door, and it closed behind her._

 _Killian finally dropped his hands and raised his head. His vision was blurry with tears, but he knew one thing._

 _Emma Swan was gone._


	3. Not a Couple

**Chapter Three: Not a Couple**

 **April 2011**

 _"Hey, Mary Margaret!" Emma chirped into the phone pressed against her shoulder as she putted around her kitchen, putting away her dinner dishes. "I was going to call you tonight, I swear. You just beat me to it."_

 _"You haven't heard, have you." Mary Margaret's voice was thick with sadness._

 _Emma froze, straightening up and gripping the phone with her hand. "What happened?"_

 _Mary Margaret took a deep breath. "It's Liam."_

 _Emma's heart turned to ice, and she set down the pot that was still in her hand. She walked out of her kitchen, sinking down on the couch. Killian's older brother was in the Irish Navy. "Mary Margaret, don't say it," she pleaded into the phone, shaking her head. She didn't want to hear that something had happened. That was Killian's greatest fear, with his brother being in the Navy. That Liam wouldn't come home one time._

 _Mary Margaret's voice cracked as she spoke. "I don't know the full story. Killian won't—he's locked in his apartment and won't let anyone in. He just came by the apartment earlier and he looked dead and he just said that Liam was gone. He had a nearly empty bottle of rum and could barely stand up straight and then he went to his apartment and I can't get ahold of him."_

 _Tears came up in Emma's eyes. She'd met Liam, and she'd had a genuine fondness for Killian's older brother. The man had practically raised Killian, been more of a father figure than their son of a bitch excuse for a father had ever been. "Oh Mary Margaret," Emma choked out. She could hear the woman start to sob on the other end, and then another voice came on the line._

 _"Emma," her brother's voice came dully. "I'm sorry. We just thought you should know, and I didn't know if Killian had told you. I didn't want to encroach on his privacy, but…"_

 _Emma shook her head. "Thank you for telling me, David. I…" her thoughts raced furiously. She couldn't let Killian be alone right now. She didn't know what she'd do if she lost David. "I'll be there soon."_

 _"Just be careful, Em," David said._

 _She bit her lip, nodding. "I will, David. I love you," she said into the phone, her heart yearning to make sure her brother understood the emotion she was trying to express._

 _"Love you too." She knew he understood. He always understood. He was her big brother. David hung up, and Emma stared at her phone for a few minutes afterwards._

 _She got up, grabbing her purse and her car keys._

* * *

 **September 2011**

They'd finished eating breakfast. Emma had offered to clean the dishes since Killian had made her food, and he'd accepted the offer. While she'd washed, he'd gathered up the blankets off the futon and put the couch back in order.

Thoughts had been racing through his mind the entire time, not focusing at all on the task at hand. He'd folded things up numbly, trying to think.

Emma was pregnant. She was going to have a child—their child. He was going to be a father.

He didn't know what he should have been feeling at that news, but he had a feeling it wasn't whatever he was currently feeling. He loved Emma. He loved the idea of a life with her, but that idea had never truly been a possibility with her.

He glanced at her in the kitchen, back to him as she washed out the pan. She was too flighty. She didn't trust herself with commitment. She didn't stay in one place. Neal had ruined her for relationships.

Whatever the two of them had, it wasn't a real relationship. But they weren't just fuck buddies, either. It was something in between. She was his best friend, and they had always been there for each other. But she would also show up, out of the blue, and they would just sleep together.

It wasn't any sort of relationship to raise a child with.

He'd meant it when he wanted her to move in with him. He wasn't one hundred percent why he had offered. He didn't know if her moving in meant that they could finally have a real relationship, one where he could say Emma Swan was his girlfriend. He didn't know if that was just his desperate attempt to make things right with her, like maybe their problem all along had been distance. Or maybe it was just a far fetched attempt at being a proper father, because in a house there was supposed to be a father and a mother and their child and there was supposed to be love.

He shook his head in frustration. That woman didn't know what she did to him. He didn't even really know how she felt about the child. There was a lot he didn't know, and there was a lot they still had to work out.

The last time he'd seen her, he had told her to get out. But he hadn't meant it, not truly. If he'd known that she could have stayed, that she would have stayed and made it work…the only thing he knew for certain was that every time she returned, he welcomed her with open arms, and every time she left, she broke his heart all over again. He didn't think he could handle the perpetual heartbreak.

The ringing of a phone interrupted his thoughts. Emma glanced up at him as he walked into the bedroom and answered his phone.

"Hello."

"Killian, good, I'm glad I managed to grab you. Do you think you're free for dinner tonight?" Mary Margaret's voice came over the phone. "I'm sorry if I'm calling too early in the morning or you're at work or something but I wanted to grab you before I left for school."

"No, you're fine, love," Killian said, heading out into the living room with the phone. Emma gave him a curious glance, and he mouthed Mary Margaret's name as she kept talking. She nodded, turning back to her work in the kitchen. "Dinner tonight?" he repeated, glancing at Emma.

Emma turned back and gave him a frantic expression, shaking her head. He knew she wanted to keep her presence here a secret. She usually did, unless she told David she was visiting him as well. Even then, her brother wasn't usually aware of the extra night she spent at Killian's place either before or after visiting his place. Sometimes both.

"David and I have some stuff we really want to talk to you about," Mary Margaret said, and he could hear the excitement in her voice.

Killian hesitated, and Emma's eyes widened. He waved his hand at her, trying to tell her not to worry. "Aye, I can come by. I'll let you know if I end up working late and can only come over for drinks."

"Sounds good," she said on the other end, and Killian could practically hear her smile. "Six o'clock if you can make it."

"I'll be there. Need me to bring anything?"

"No, I'll have it all taken care of. By the way, have you talked to Emma lately?"

"Emma?" Killian asked, his voice flustered. She looked even more freaked out in the kitchen, shaking her head furiously. "Um, no, we haven't talked lately."

Mary Margaret sighed. "I swear, that girl…Anyway, I want to see if she can come down this weekend. This is news that's just better in person, and we haven't seen her since the wedding. I haven't seen her as my sister-in-law yet! I mean, besides the night we got married, but then you know how she left super early the next morning."

"That's a real shame," Killian said, trying to avoid the furious glares Emma was now sending his way. "I'll, uh, let you know if I get ahold of her."

"Well, I'll see you tonight!" Mary Margaret chirped.

"Tonight," Killian repeated. After their goodbyes, Killian hung up.

"What was that about?" Emma asked, frowning and coming into the living room to stand near Killian with her arms crossed.

Killian sighed. "Apparently Mary Margaret has—"

They were interrupted by the ringing of another phone. Emma glanced around, seeing her phone on the counter at the bar.

"That'll be Mary Margaret, and you better answer it," Killian warned. "She has news, and wants you here this weekend."

"This weekend?" Emma demanded, inching backwards towards her phone. "But I—"

"Answer."

Emma reluctantly moved over to her phone, nearly wincing as she answered and held it up to her ear. "Hi, Mary Margaret."

Killian tuned out her conversation as he finished his task of putting away the blankets. He heard a lot of noncommittal answers on the part of Emma, not giving him many clues to what was happening in the conversation.

"Yeah, I can come down and stay the weekend," Emma finally said. "I'm looking forward to it."

Killian glanced up at her, hearing the forced happiness in her voice. Whatever facade Emma was putting up, as rational as she was acting this morning, it was a farce. She didn't have this under control. She wasn't ready to face reality.

And as composed as Killian acted, he didn't have the faintest clue what the two of them were going to do.

* * *

 _She tried knocking on the door. No answer. She tried pounding on the door, and just heard a disgruntled, "Sod off!" coming from inside._

 _"Killian, it's me," she called loudly, shifting her weight outside the door. It was the middle of the night and it was cold. He didn't answer, and Emma swore._

 _She had a key to his apartment. She rarely used it, but he had given it to her a long time ago. She pulled it out and let herself in._

 _"It's not enough that a man's brother dies, now he's not even left alone to mourn in peace?" Killian growled from the couch. He was slumped across the armrest, one leg up on the couch and the other leg thrown haphazardly over the back of the couch. A half empty bottle of rum was in his hand, and she caught sight of another empty bottle on the table. He scowled at her as she closed the door behind her and locked it once more._

 _Biting her lip, Emma turned back to face Killian. He had turned away from her now, taking another long sip of rum from the bottle. He hadn't changed out of his pirate's costume from earlier, still wearing the tight leather pants and the red vest and his shirt half buttoned up. The eyeliner he used was smeared around his eyes, making him look like a raccoon. The jacket was flung across another chair, and Emma realized there was another empty liquor bottle on the kitchen counter._

 _She stared at the man who was muttering to himself on the couch, shaking his head and taking long draughts of alcohol._

 _"In case you haven't noticed, I'm not in the mood to take care of your_ needs _, Swan," Killian snapped. "I'm a bit busy."_

 _Emma let out a deep breath, shaking her head and stepping forward. She knelt down on the couch next to Killian, putting her hand on his leg and looking up at him. "Killian, Mary Margaret told me about Liam. I'm so—"_

 _"You're so_ sorry _, aren't you? Because that's all anyone is. Sorry. But sorry won't bring him back, so what's the point? What's the point of anything? What's the point of loving anyone if you're just going to lose them eventually?"_

 _Emma took a deep breath, reaching for the bottle of rum. "Killian, I think you've had enough to drink."_

 _He yanked it back out of her grasp, tilting the bottle up to his lips again. He took a noisy drink. "Can't have too much to drink, love, not when it feels so good. Anything that feels this good can't be bad. I'm numb. I feel…I feel like I'm floating. Like I'm floating in the ocean. Only that's probably what Liam's damn body is doing right now, the sodding bastard. How dare he—"_

 _Emma bowed her head, her heart aching at Killian's rant. She could hear the pain in his voice. He was belligerent and angry, like he got when he was drunk. She didn't know if she'd ever seen him this badly drunk, though. She was sad about Liam, but she needed to be here for Killian, and this wasn't going to help him._

 _"Killian, give me the bottle," Emma ordered._

 _He scowled. "No."_

 _"Jones."_

 _"Swan."_

 _"You've drank enough. You're drunk off your ass."_

 _"Better than being dead off my ass, like Liam." His voice broke on Liam's voice, and it pierced her heart like a physical pain._

 _Emma pushed herself to her feet, leaning over Killian and wrestling the bottle away from him. He cried out, reaching for it, but she stepped back before he could grab it. His swing went wild, and he fell back on the couch, off-balance._

 _"No," she snapped, setting the bottle down on the table. "You are not going to drink yourself into oblivion. That's not what Liam would want. You're going to get up and go to bed, because it's the middle of the fucking night, and sleep is what you need, not more alcohol."_

 _"Bloody hell, woman," Killian muttered._

 _Emma reached down, grabbing Killian's arm and hauling him up. He was taller and heavier than her, and they both swayed dangerously as she struggled to hold his staggering weight, but they were both on their feet._

 _"You've been ignoring everyone, and Mary Margaret and David are worried sick about you. They tried to help you, and you turned them away. Fuck, Killian, why didn't you call me?'_

 _"Because you're not my fucking girlfriend! I don't have to tell you everything in my life!"_

 _Emma winced like his words were a physical blow. "No. I'm your best friend, and you don't have to tell me everything. But_ this— _fuck it, Jones, you should have called me. Now, you're going to your bedroom, and we're going to get you out of these clothes and into bed."_

 _She began to pull him towards the bedroom. He followed her, still swaying on his feet, and finally she got him into his room. He just stood there awkwardly, until she nudged him and he fell onto the bed. He pressed his hands into his face and let out a loud moan._

 _"Liam," he moaned, shaking his head. "Oh god. Liam. Liam, come back. It's not true. He's still—He's still—" Killian let out a sob, curling up on his side._

 _"Killian," Emma whispered, her voice tortured as she reached out a tentative hand to his shoulder. She'd never seen Killian lose it. Not like this. He always held it together for her. He held the two of them together. She didn't know what to do for him. She slowly sat down on the bed next to him, rubbing his back with one hand. "Killian."_

* * *

Emma closed the phone, finishing her talk with Mary Margaret. Killian had just settled himself down on the couch with another cup of coffee, and he glanced up at her as she stood frozen in the middle of the living room where she had been pacing.

"I need a minute," she muttered, her voice thick as she shook her head and moved towards Killian's bedroom.

He sighed. She still needed time. She still couldn't talk. She'd agreed to go to David and Mary Margaret's for the weekend, but that was still two days away and he didn't know what she was going to do in the meantime. Where she was going to stay.

Killian pulled out his phone again. He wasn't going in to work today, that was certain. There were other things he had to take care of. He called his company, Storybrooke Seaside Tours, and told the secretary Ariel that he needed her husband, Eric, to take care of today's tours because he wouldn't be going in.

She seemed concerned, and justifiably so. Ever since his brother had died, he had thrown himself into his work. He was always at the docks. When he wasn't drunk, that was, and there were even a few shameful times he had been at the docks _and_ drunk.

"Why aren't you going to work? Was that your alarm this morning?"

Emma's voice came from behind him. Killian didn't answer right away, instead slumping down on the couch and rubbing a hand over his face in frustration. "You and I have some things to discuss, Swan."

There was the soft padding of footsteps, and then the couch cushion sagged as Emma settled herself down next to Killian. He dropped his arm, turning to look at her. She was staring pointedly ahead, not meeting his gaze.

"I don't want to talk about it today," she said slowly and precisely. "You weren't ready to talk about it last night, and we didn't. I'm not ready to talk about it today. This is already…I've agreed to stay. That's all I can do right now. We can talk about more later. Tomorrow. After we get through dinner tonight."

Killian's mind raced trying to get through everything she'd said. He could wait to talk about it. He knew getting her to agree to stay was a huge concession already, if she managed to follow through on it. He wanted to talk about everything, to sit down and hash out exactly where they stood and where they were going, but he knew she couldn't handle it, so he tried to tamp down those feelings.

And then the last thing she said caught up to him. "After _we_ go to dinner?"

She nodded, dropping her face into her hands. "Yeah," she said, voice muffled. He waited a moment as she took a deep breath, dragging her hands down her face. She raised her head, finally turning to look at him. He saw the vulnerability in her face, the tense way she held herself. "I'm in Storybrooke two days earlier than I told them I would be. I know that if I leave the apartment, I'll run into them, or they'll come by and see my car. It would just be a hassle to try to hide. Besides, if I'm going to…live… _here_ …then, I don't know, I figure I might as well—"

Killian understood what she was trying to say, and knew she would keep talking until she rambled on forever. He reached out, putting his hand on her shoulder, and she paused, her eyes searching his.

"Alright, Swan."

They spent a quiet day around the house. They watched a few TV shows, sitting on the couch with a careful space between them. Killian went through some paperwork for his company, and Emma curled up with a book from his bookshelf.

It made Killian's heart ache, as he looked up from his laptop to see Emma reading a book on the couch, curled up underneath a blanket and completely forgetting about his presence. This was all he ever wanted with her—a quiet life, where she was happy, where that absent smile on her face as she read never left. This was what they hadn't ever had. In college, she'd first been David's sister, and then she'd had a boyfriend. After college…she didn't often stay past breakfast the next day.

There was a harrowing moment during the day when Killian ran out to Granny's to get them grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch.

"Hey, Killian."

Killian fumbled, almost dropping his wallet. Composing himself, he grinned and turned around. "David, mate, how are you?"

"Two grilled cheese sandwiches to go," Ruby called, dropping the bag on the counter. Killian raised his hand in acknowledgement.

David clapped him on the shoulder. His grin stretched almost from ear to ear, and Killian wondered if it had to do with the good news that he was supposed to hear tonight. "Excellent. Who are you picking up lunch for?"

Killian's heart skipped a beat. _Not Emma_ , he wanted to respond instantly. "Me and Ariel. Going over some tough paperwork this morning," he lied easily.

"Making Eric do the legwork today, huh?" David asked, nodding at Granny behind the counter.

"Yeah," Killian said absently, grabbing the bag. "Uh, Dave, I gotta go—"

"Sure. See you tonight," David said, nodding at him as he slipped into a bar chair. "Oh, by the way, Emma's coming over tonight."

Killian bit his tongue to keep from blurting out something stupid. "Is she?" he forced out.

David nodded, taking his coffee from Ruby. "Yeah. Weren't you the one who told her about dinner?"

He blinked. "Oh, aye, but she didn't tell me she was going to make it. Guess I'll be seeing her sooner than planned," he lied again.

"Yup. See you tonight, Killian."

Killian let out a deep breath as he slipped out of the diner. If Emma tried to stay here for longer than a day, she would most definitely be discovered by his brother. He was just glad David had no reason to go driving down his street and see her yellow Bug.

* * *

 _While Killian sobbed, gut-wrenching, body shaking sobs that made Emma's heart ache, they ended up with her sitting against the headboard and Killian curled up against her chest. She wrapped her arms around him, feeling like she was trying to hold him together while he threatened to fall apart._

 _Finally, he was asleep against her chest. She slowly moved out from underneath him, putting his head down on the pillow. She got up off the bed, fetching a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water and setting them down on the bedside table. She contemplated him for a moment, passed out on his bed, and then set about the difficult task of trying to pry him out of his tight leather pants. It took a few extra minutes, but eventually he was out of them._

 _She had to bite back a chuckle at the image of him laying there. Apparently he wore briefs underneath his leather pants, instead of his usual boxers. The picture of him laying there in his underwear and pirate's shirt and vest…thank god he'd already taken the stupid hook off._

 _Emma didn't think she could get the vest or the shirt off. She'd have to settle for his pants. At least he'd be more comfortable now when he woke up, but he'd have a raging headache._

 _She couldn't pull the covers over him, because he'd passed out on top of them. She went to the closet to grab an extra blanket. Emma hesitated when she saw the blanket on top of the pile. It was one of those fleece knitted ones, with a ridiculous pattern of anchors and steering wheels on a light blue background. Her fingers brushed over it, stirring up an old memory. She'd given this to him the first year of college, six years ago. It had been a stupid Secret Santa gift exchange in the dorm. She couldn't believe he still had it._

 _Emma pulled it out of the closet, wrapping her arms tightly around it as she walked back to the bedroom with the blanket. She settled into bed next to Killian, rearranging him into a more comfortable sleeping position. She draped the blanket over them, and then laid down herself._

 _When he woke hours later, and ended up puking in the bathroom, she was there handing him a cloth to wipe his mouth. She fetched the aspirin and water, coaxing him into taking them. When he slumped back against the bathtub, she knelt by him and helped wipe off the remains of his makeup._

 _"Why are you babysitting me, Swan?" He growled, rolling his head away from her and forcing her to pause._

 _"You do it, then," she snapped, putting the cotton pad in his hand. He glared at her, and she sighed, turning his head back to her. She took the pad from him, swiping underneath his eye again. "Your brother just died and you're drunk. Do you really think I'd leave you alone?" He just stared at her, and she couldn't read his expression. She shook her head, tossing the pad into the nearby trash can. "You've taken care of me when I've been shit-faced. You think I'm not going to return the favor, you idiot?"_

 _She settled against the tub next to him, their legs stretched out on the cold, tiled floor. She handed him the water cup again, glaring at him until he drank it._

 _Killian glanced downwards as he set the cup down. "Did you take off my pants, or did I do that?"_

 _She rolled her eyes, getting to her feet again. "I did. Those are some damn tight pants, Jones. Thought you liked room to breathe down there."_

 _"You have to admit, my ass looks damn fine in those damn tight pants."_

 _She shook her head, glad he couldn't see the faint blush on her cheeks. His ass did look damn fine in those pants. She wasn't going to admit it, though._

 _She fetched him a t-shirt, and helped him out of the rest of his pirate's costume. "Done worshipping the porcelain god?" she asked._

 _He grimaced. "For now. I need to bloody sleep."_

 _Emma nodded, going to the bathroom counter and opening one of the drawers. She pulled out his toothbrush and toothpaste, offering them to him. He took them gratefully, and she went back to his bed._

 _She pulled back the covers, smiling again at the anchor blanket. She slipped underneath the sheets, settling down. He came back, getting into bed beside her. They laid there for a few minutes, not touching and not talking, until he broke the silence._

 _"I still can't believe it," he whispered, his voice broken once more. Emma heard him take a deep, shuddering breath._

 _She rolled over, curling up against his side. She kissed his cheek, feeling the rough stubble, and laid her head on his chest. Her other hand came up to stroke his jaw once before it rested on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head._

 _Emma closed her eyes, trying to control her emotions. She didn't want to let herself enjoy this. She couldn't. This felt too much like what people in a relationship did, this cuddling and kissing. She didn't have a relationship with him, couldn't have a relationship with him. But at the same time, she couldn't leave his side. He needed her right now, and she had to give this to him. He needed to hold someone right now. He was a person driven by touch, a person who had to take care of someone, and his brother's death had left a void in his life. She knew he needed someone to hold._

 _If she stopped to admit it, she needed to be held, but she wouldn't stop to admit it._

 _"It will be okay, Killian," Emma whispered into the quiet night. His only response was pressing his cheek against the top of her head and tightening his arms around her._

 _Emma took a deep breath, bracing herself for a long night of struggling with her emotions._

* * *

"Are you sure you want to go tonight?" Killian asked again. He knew he was pushing it, asking a stubborn Emma to rethink her decision, but he didn't want her to fall apart tonight. Again.

She glared at him, putting her purse on her shoulder and grabbing her shoes. "Yes."

He sighed, shaking his head. "As you wish, Swan." He went to the pantry, looking through his bottles of wine and trying to decide which one to bring. He finally picked one, pulling it out of the pantry and examining the label until a sudden thought made him look up at Emma. "I can't bring this."

She frowned, in the middle of pulling on a tennis shoe. "Why not?"

"You can't drink it," he said, blinking at her. She was pregnant. She couldn't drink alcohol. Hell, he shouldn't have made her coffee this morning. Wasn't caffeine bad for pregnant women too? Was there anything else?

Was he supposed to be taking care of her like this? Was he supposed to be thinking about these things?

She paused, straightening up. Her purse was hanging off her shoulder, and she wore only one shoe as she stared at him. "I guess I shouldn't."

"Maybe I have some sparkling cider—"

"Killian, you can't _not_ bring wine."

He leaned out of the pantry to frown at her. "But you can't drink it."

She ran a hand through her hair, shrugging. "I guess not. But I'll tell them I already have a headache or something. But if you don't bring wine, then they'll know something's wrong."

Killian slowly took the bottle of wine out and set it down on the counter, facing Emma. "We're not telling them." It was more of a confirmation of what he guessed Emma was thinking, rather than his own idea.

She gave him an exasperated look, bending down to put her other shoe on. With a frustrated noise, she dropped her purse on the ground as she wrestled the other shoe on. "Of course not. We don't know what the hell we're doing, the last thing we need to do is tell my _brother_ that I'm knocked up by his best friend who I'm not even dating."

The last bit hurt him more than he thought it would. _Who I'm not even dating_. Did she still think that was where they stood on their relationship? Were they dating? They certainly hadn't been, for the past two years, but what about now that she was pregnant with his child?

"You're right," Killian said softly.

"And we should drive separately, like usual," Emma said, straightening up. "I told them I got some time off work, so I'll be able to make it in tonight for dinner, but I don't want them knowing that I've already been here."

Killian nodded, just staring at her. He didn't like this, them being like a couple, but in actuality not being one at all. They'd spent the day around the house together. They were going to dinner at their friends' place. He'd cooked, she'd cleaned. They'd been a team. But he supposed reality had to settle in at some point.

"Aye," Killian said, forcing himself to move. He checked his pockets, making sure he had everything. He grabbed the wine off the counter. "I suppose you're right, love. Are you staying with them, then?"

Emma pursed her lips, staring at Killian. There was hope in her eyes, and a faint flush on the tops of her cheeks. "I thought I'd told you I'd stay."

"Is that with me, or in Storybrooke?"

She ducked her head. "I'd prefer it to be with you."

"I'd prefer that as well, love."

She finally looked up and met his gaze, and he had the urge to kiss her. But they weren't a couple, and they didn't do that sort of thing.

"Well, I'm headed over now," Killian said, breaking the moment and heading past her. "You can come whenever you want, if you don't want to arrive together."

"I'll probably be a couple minutes behind you," Emma said from behind him. Killian nodded as he stepped outside, closing the door behind him.

He paused for a minute, taking a deep breath. Tonight was going to be a long night.


	4. I Can't Do This

**Chapter Four: I Can't Do This**

 **September 2011**

"Killian!" Mary Margaret greeted him enthusiastically when she opened the door. She was wearing an apron and a demure dress, beaming at him. He kissed her on the cheek as he went in.

"Hello, Mary Margaret," he said, smiling at her. "I brought this. If it doesn't go with that delicious food I can already smell, I'm sure you can enjoy it another time." He handed her the bottle.

"Oh, this looks like a good one," she said, eyeing the label. "David, come on!" she called, glancing up at the loft.

"I'm coming," he grumbled. "Did you want the guest room set up properly or not?"

Killian bit the inside of his cheek. He knew it didn't really matter if their guest room (which was really just a loft without even proper walls) was set up, because Emma wouldn't be staying there, but he didn't say anything.

"I'm so glad Emma's coming over," Mary Margaret said, bustling into the kitchen and setting down the bottle of wine. "Do you know how long it's been since just the four of us had dinner together?"

 _Six months._ Six months ago was the last time they'd had a normal gathering. David and Mary Margaret madly in love, Killian and Emma secretly sleeping together, David oblivious to their relationship, Emma still visiting Storybrooke on a mostly regular basis.

"It has been forever," Killian agreed, dropping onto the couch. David came down the stairs then, and the two of them exchanged greetings.

"Did you pick up stuff to make pancakes this weekend?" Mary Margaret asked David as he came into the kitchen.

"And I got extra blueberries," David responded, giving her a quick kiss before he washed his hands.

"You're making pancakes? Blueberry ones? Are you cheating on Granny?" Killian demanded from the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table and reclining. For the moment, in this little bubble, he could pretend everything was normal in their world. "She gave me her recipe," Mary Margaret said defensively, waving a spatula at him. "It's not cheating; I have permission."

"Bet they won't be as good," Killian muttered under his breath.

"David, help me," Mary Margaret ordered imperiously, pointing at Killian with the spatula.

Chuckling, David came over and tried to knock Killian upside the head. Killian was anticipating it, however, and the two of them spent a few moments in a brief tussle, breaking apart only when Mary Margaret cleared her throat.

"We're making those for Emma tomorrow morning. You can come over if you want," Mary Margaret said, taking food and putting it on the table.

"Sure," he said, shrugging. He got up off of his feet. "Anything I can do?" "You can grab—" David started, but Killian punched him to cut him off.

"I was talking to Mary Margaret," Killian said, rolling his eyes as David rubbed at his arm and pretended to be hurt.

Just then there was a knock at the door and Killian stiffened.

"Emma!" Mary Margaret exclaimed. "Killian, you can get the door."

David followed Killian as he headed towards the door. He realized he hadn't thought about how he would react to seeing Emma for what was supposed to be the first time since the wedding. They'd done this before, slept together and then he saw her at David's and Mary Margaret's, but they'd never had this much between them. They hadn't gotten into huge fights, spent months apart, or been pregnant.

He opened the door, and surprise flickered across her face as she realized who was opening the door. "Jones."

He cleared his throat. "Swan."

"Emma," David said in excitement, pushing past Killian to hug Emma. She hugged him back, and Killian watched the expression of pure love cross Emma's face. She'd had shitty luck with relationships, and a shitty home before David's family had adopted her, but now she had a family and she loved him to hell and back.

"It's really good to see you," she said, burying her face against David's shoulder. She pulled back, and the two of them grinned at each other. "How's married life?"

"Just the usual," David said. "Mary Margaret tells me what to do, I do it, only now I can call her Mrs. Nolan."

"Mrs. Nolan. Wow," Emma said, pushing her hair behind her ear.

"Where are your bags?" David asked.

Emma blinked, eyes widening over so slightly. Killian didn't think David noticed. "Oh, they're, um, still in the car."

"Want me to get them?" David asked eagerly.

"No, it's good. It can wait," Emma said. "Um, hey, Killian!"

"Emma," he greeted, and the two of them exchanged hugs. "How are you?"

She looked like she was caught between laughter at the absurdity of the situation and panic at the weight of it. "The usual. Still just catching bad guys. You?"

"Good, good," Killian said, and they hesitated, not sure how to continue.

"Emma, get over here!" Mary Margaret exclaimed. "I can't leave the sauce alone!" She was stirring a pot on the stove, her hand still moving even as she turned around to face them.

Emma laughed, and headed farther in. Killian closed the door, bracing himself for the rest of the night.

"It's good to be together again," David sighed, crossing his arms as he stood next to Killian and they watched the women hug each other. Emma complimented Mary Margaret again on her ring, and Mary Margaret insisted that Emma start telling her everything about her life.

"Yeah. It is," Killian said, smiling as he realized he truly meant it, despite what the past twenty four hours had brought, and whatever the next twenty four hours were going to bring.

* * *

 **April 2011**

 _Killian slept for hours. Emma woke up to the sound of his phone vibrating on the bedside table. She grabbed it, seeing by the time that it was early afternoon. She wasn't surprised he had slept that long, but she was surprised she had made it that long._

 _She saw that it was Ariel calling, from his work. She grabbed the phone, disappearing into the bathroom and closing the door so she didn't wake Killian._

 _"Ariel, hi, it's Emma," she said, hoping Ariel would remember her. She'd met the woman once or twice at Killian's work._

 _"Hi, Emma. Is everything okay with Killian? I've been calling him all day and he hasn't been answering. Eric's been taking care of work stuff," Ariel said, speaking quickly like she usually did._

 _Emma took a deep breath, glancing at the bathroom door and thinking about Killian. "No, he's not, actually. His brother passed away yesterday, and he hasn't been doing that great. I stopped by to check on him."_

 _"Oh god," Ariel gasped. "Emma, I'm so sorry. Tell him he can take all the time he needs. Eric and I will take care of everything here."_

 _"Yeah," she said softly. "Thank you, Ariel."_

 _"Let me know if there's anything besides work I can do," she added. "I'm glad you're there for him, Emma."_

 _"Me too. Bye, Ariel."_

 _Emma hung up the phone, taking a deep breath and rubbing her forehead._

 _There was a tapping at the bathroom door, and then it slowly swung open. Emma stared at Killian, who let out a deep breath when he saw her._

 _He closed his eyes, rubbing at his jaw with his hand. "Emma."_

 _"What are you doing?" Emma asked._

 _"I could ask you the same."_

 _Emma held up the phone. "I told Ariel. She and Eric are covering work."_

 _Killian nodded, but his gaze was fixed on Emma now and there was an intensity in his look. "You weren't in bed when I woke up."_

 _"I was talking to Ariel," Emma responded mechanically, gesturing towards the phone again. She was trying to figure out the deep cast to Killian's expression._

 _"Come back to bed," Killian said, stepping forward. He picked up Emma's hand, gently taking the phone from her. He led her out of the bathroom, tossing his phone on the ground, and she let herself be led._

 _When they reached the edge of the bed, Killian turned to face her. "You're still here," he said, and there was a note of wonder in his voice._

 _Her heart twinged. "Yes."_

 _He reached up, and started to brush away a piece of hair from her face, but then he tangled his fingers in her hair. The other hand came up until he was cradling her face in his hands. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers. He let out a deep, shuddering breath, and her hands involuntarily came up to rest on his chest._

 _"Make me forget," he breathed, nose brushing against hers. He skimmed his lips over hers, and her hands slid up to interlace behind his neck. "Make me forget, Emma."_

 _For the span of two heartbeats, neither of them moved. A war raged inside Emma, the same war that had raged inside her when he had held her. She could run, and protect her heart, but she would hurt him if she did._

 _She pulled him down to her for a hard and desperate kiss, putting all her angst and frustration and emotion into an action that spoke better than she ever could._

* * *

"Emma, what's been going on with you?" Mary Margaret asked, as they cleared the dinner dishes away. "I mean, we've been talking a lot about us, but you've been rather quiet."

Killian glanced at Emma. He knew why she was reluctant to talk, and so he'd been trying to make an effort to talk more than normal.

Emma cleared her throat, taking a few glasses over to the sink. "Really, nothing much. I've just had a lot of work, so I've been really busy with that."

"Any interesting cases?" Mary Margaret asked, putting leftovers away in tupperware.

David started washing dishes at the sink, and Killian took up a towel to help dry. "Isn't there something like client confidentiality?" He asked Emma.

Emma shrugged, leaning against the counter because there wasn't much else for her to do. "I mean, technically, but there are still some fun details that I can get into." She grinned. "The last guy took me a while to nab. We were on a date, and then he flipped a table at me. When he ran, I pulled off my shoe and managed to nail him in the back of the head."

Killian snorted. "Hopefully you didn't stab him with the heel, Swan."

"It was a wedge. He was fine. Knocked out cold with a nasty bruise, but mostly fine."

Mary Margaret looked slightly horrified, and David was chuckling. "Throwing shoes. Wish I could do that to people."

"Boss wasn't too happy with the method, but hey, it worked," Emma said. She grinned at Killian, and the two of them shared a brief, happy, relaxed look.

"Is that desert?" Killian asked Mary Margaret, seeing her pull what looked like some sort of cheesecake out of the fridge.

She smiled. "Hungry already, Killian?"

"You know me, a growing boy."

"More like a Lost Boy who never grows up," David muttered, causing Killian to whack him in the back of his head with the towel.

"Just be glad that wasn't a heel," Killian snorted.

"It was a wedge!"

They laughed and exchanged stories as they cleaned the kitchen. Dinner hadn't been too bad, and Killian was pleased.

"Before we get settled down for desert, Emma, want me to go down and grab your stuff out of the car?" David asked. "That way you don't have to leave later."

Emma's eyes widened, and she shot a nervous glance at Killian. He gave her a reassuring smile. He wouldn't interfere in this conversation. "Um, David, I was actually thinking of crashing at Killian's place."

David's eyebrows shot higher than Killian had ever seen them, and David glanced at Killian, who just gave him a weak smile, not sure what else to do. "You're staying with Killian?" Killian prayed fervently that the weird tone to David's voice was confusion over Emma staying with him when she ostensibly always stayed with David, not because he was suspicious that there was something deeper going on between them.

"I hope you'll still spend some time with us," Mary Margaret said, setting the table for desert. "I hope we're not too boring now that we're an old married couple."

"You're boring, alright," Killian said at the same time Emma commented, "That's definitely it." The two of them glanced at each other and snickered, and Mary Margaret sighed.

"Well, if that's how it's going to be, I can eat this cheesecake all by myself, you know," Mary Margaret snapped playfully, picking up a fork and holding it over the cake. She looked over at David, her grin widening as she lowered the fork back to the table. "I am eating for two, now, you know."

Killian and Emma both froze. His mind raced as he tried to reconcile Mary Margaret's words with what they meant, but his attention was caught by Emma, who was coughing and gasping for air, leaning over the counter. He moved quickly to her side. "Emma!"

He reached out for her, but she held out a hand to stop him as she took a deep breath and straightened up, shaking her head.

"You're pregnant too?" she gasped, staring at Mary Margaret.

Mary Margaret's eyes widened, and she sank slowly down into a chair at the table as she stared at Emma. "Emma…"

"Shit," she breathed, eyes widening. "That was…I didn't mean—fuck."

Killian swore internally as Emma pushed past him, hastily heading for the door. She fled, slamming the door behind her and leaving a deep silence behind her.

Still standing at the bar, Killian glanced between Mary Margaret and David. She was watching him, a contemplative expression on her face. David was frozen, his knuckles white where they gripped the neck of the wine bottle in his hand. He stared at the door.

"Do you know anything about this, Killian?" Mary Margaret asked warily.

Killian sighed, sliding onto a bar stool and rubbing the back of his neck. "Yes."

"Is she…" Mary Margaret trailed off, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes."

There was a heavy thud from the kitchen of David setting the wine bottle down on the counter. David strode past them both, heading for the door with long strides. He closed it shut firmly behind him.

"Do you know who the father is?" Mary Margaret pressed, and Killian looked away from her, biting his lip. "Yes." Did he just throw it all to the wind? Just say to hell with it, and tell them everything? What would Emma want?

"Killian…"

He took a deep breath, still not looking at Mary Margaret. "I am."

* * *

 _The two of them tumbled on to the bed. It was rough and hard, desperate and full of emotions neither of them knew how to deal with. Killian had his grief, Emma had her pain, and they both poured everything they had into it. By the time they were done, the sheets were all mussed, the comforter on the bed was somewhere across the room, and the pillows were all over the place._

 _Afterwards, they were sprawled across the bed, Emma on her back with Killian's arm thrown over her bare chest. She stared at the ceiling while he tried to burrow deeper into the bed. Her breathing slowed, and she looked at him._

 _His face was turned towards her as he lay on his stomach, but his eyes were closed. It wasn't the normal closed of a relaxed night of sleep, though. His brow was furrowed, lines around his eyes. His mouth was drawn in a tight line, and she saw the tension in his jaw. She had the urge to smooth out those lines, to kiss him and make it all better, but she resisted._

 _The only thing she was good at in a relationship was sex. She didn't know how to do all the other stuff. That was the only reason Neal had kept her around as long as he did. He didn't like her because she was a good girlfriend, but because she was a good fuck. And she helped him with his underhanded deals, because she thought he loved her._

 _That wasn't love. She may not know exactly what love felt like, but she knew now that it hadn't been love with Neal. She didn't think this, whatever this was with Killian, was love either. They were just…best friends. Who slept together. And took care of each other when they were drunk._

 _Emma shook her head. This was a messed up relationship they had. She rolled out from underneath Killian's arm, causing him to stir and look up at her._

 _"Swan?" he asked, voice thick. "Where are you going?"_

 _She paused, her back to him as she sat on the edge of the bed. She took a deep breath, dropping her head. She had wanted to leave. She needed to end whatever this was. She had come here, gotten him to stop drinking, and they'd slept together. They were done._

 _But at the sound of his voice, she couldn't do it. "I was going to take a shower," she said quietly. "Join me?"_

 _That was how they ended up in the shower together, her soaping his back and him shampooing her hair. She closed her eyes, pushing aside her feelings as she enjoyed that moment. It was going to be hell when she left him, but she told herself that this was what he needed now. He needed to not be alone, to feel needed, to have someone for him to take care of and be affectionate towards._

 _She told herself she was doing it for him._

 _They exchanged slow kisses in the shower and gentle, teasing touches that made them long for more. Emma was enjoying it—far too much. As Killian rubbed soap on her back, lingering and massaging the muscle, Emma knew she had to put a stop to it._

 _She spun around a little too quickly, and Killian caught her by the arms to steady her as she slipped. "Swan, what's—"_

 _"I think we should do a toast," she blurted out, looking up at him and blinking as water ran down her face. She brushed the water away, trying to step away from the stream. That worked to get the water out of her face, but then she ended up pushed closer against Killian._

 _"A toast?" He asked, brow furrowed._

 _Emma nodded, trying to shift so she could stand farther away from Killian but also out of the water. "A toast for Liam. Have a drink for him."_

 _Killian stared at her a long minute, and she saw his expression darken and his lips drop down from the half smile they had been in. He nodded, sliding past her so that he could finish rinsing off in the water. "Aye, love, that is a fine idea."_

 _That was how they ended up sitting on the edge of his bed, holding glasses of rum._

 _"To the best big brother anyone could have asked for," Emma said quietly, holding up her glass and looking at Killian, who was staring down at the amber liquid. "To the man who made you who you are, and who was willing to give up everything for your happiness. To the man who died for his country. To family. To Liam."_

 _Killian held out his glass to her, and they clinked together. Both of them drained their glasses, Killian tossing it back in his throat more quickly than Emma. He poured each of them some more, filling the glasses much higher than Emma would have. His was nearly full._

 _He sat still for a long moment, swirling the liquid around in the glass. Emma saw his eyes glistening again, and he shook his head. "To Liam," he said gruffly, holding out his glass._

 _"To Liam," Emma echoed once more, and they toasted him again._

 _Emma didn't protest as Killian drank his entire glass in one go. She only took a small sip of her second glass, setting it down on the bedside table instead._

 _Killian shook his head, a choked noise coming out of his throat. "Liam…He's gone…"_

 _Emma took the glass from him, setting it down next to hers. She reached out and ran her fingers through his hair, her heart skipping a beat. "I'm here, Killian," she whispered._

 _He leaned forward and pressed his lips slowly against hers, leaning forward and enveloping her in his arms. The taste of rum on his lips mixed with the salty tears running down his cheeks._

 _"I'm here," she whispered as she lowered the two of them down._

* * *

When Mary Margaret didn't show any reaction to the news that Killian was the father, he cautiously looked at her to find her staring at him with that contemplative expression again.

He gestured helplessly. "You find out Emma's pregnant with my child and you just look at me like that?"

She shrugged, getting up and walking over to the kitchen with light steps. She turned on the coffee machine, then leaned back against the counter and crossed her arms. "I had a bet with David that there was a thing between you two. He refused to admit it."

Killian blinked at her, surprised she seemed to be taking the news so…well. "Did you not hear the pregnant part? This isn't just a _thing_ , this is…a really big thing." He cursed his lack of eloquence.

Mary Margaret took a deep breath, shrugging again. "Freaking out isn't going to help Emma. Probably not you, either. How'd you take the news?"

He just stared at her, blinking. "I just—we—we still haven't really talked about it. I think we're both trying to come to terms with it."

Mary Margaret nodded, turning and pulling out two coffee mugs as the machine grew louder behind her. "David freaked out. I told him that I was pregnant and he jumped up and immediately started pacing around thinking about everything that had to be taken care of."

"There's a lot of things!" Killian exclaimed. Mary Margaret chuckled as she poured out the coffee into the two mugs and handed one to him. He set it aside, frowning as she took a sip of hers. "Aren't you not supposed to drink coffee? Caffeine?"

Mary Margaret snorted. "Try telling Emma not to drink her morning coffee. No, it's okay to have a little. I'm keeping myself to one or two cups a day, so she'll have to tone back the addiction a little in the morning."

Killian nodded, filing that information away.

"So what is this thing between the two of you, anyway?" Mary Margaret asked, raising an eyebrow as she looked at him over her steaming mug.

Killian took a deep breath, reaching for the coffee and taking a swallow. "We've been sleeping together."

"Well, I know that now," Mary Margaret said pointedly.

He winced. "Did you know we've been sleeping together for the past two years?"

She eyed him for a moment, and he could tell she was thinking, calculating in her head. "After she broke up with Neal."

Killian raised an eyebrow. "How do you do that?" "What?"

"Know this stuff," Killian said, waving a hand in the air. "I can't believe you haven't called us out on it before."

Mary Margaret chuckled lightly. "Women's intuition. But two years? I would assume some sort of friends with benefits situation, because I don't see Emma wanting to be in a relationship and you two have clearly tried to hide it from us."

Killian took another sip of the coffee, glad for a distraction and not wanting to answer Mary Margaret because she was frightening him a little with her powers of deduction and her calm demeanor.

"So what are you going to do?" she asked hesitantly, setting the mug down on the counter and turning her full attention on him.

"I don't know, honestly," Killian said. He got up, pacing a few steps and turning back around to face her. "I asked her to move in with me. Or at least to Storybrooke."

"Did she agree?"

"I think so. She's staying with me for now, if tonight didn't change her mind. But after…" Killian paced again, shaking his head and gripping the mug tightly in his hand. "We don't have a relationship, Mary Margaret. We fight. We have sex. We go our separate ways. That's it. We don't do…she's never wanted a relationship, and how is a child supposed to change that? I only see it making it worse."

He took a deep breath, setting the mug down so that both his hands were free to run through his hair. "I mean, the last time I saw her was at the wedding and I told her to get the hell out, that I didn't want to see her again because I knew she couldn't do a relationship. How do you build something off of that? And before that, before that was when Liam died, and she ran out on me without saying goodbye and then didn't call me for three whole months—where do you go from there? That isn't any sort of proper relationship for parents of a child to have, Mary Margaret. They're supposed to have—they're supposed to have—what you and David have. Not what me and Emma—"

A gentle touch on his arm made him pause, staring at Mary Margaret in confusion. She was standing next to him, her hand resting on his arm. "Killian, you have to calm down." He didn't even know when she had appeared next to him.

He deflated, shaking his head. "I've been holding it together for her today. But I can't hold it together forever, and I can't hold us together forever. Something has to change, or it's all going to hell."

"Being a mother changes you," Mary Margaret said. When he raised en eyebrow, glancing down at her flat stomach, she rolled her eyes. "Being pregnant and _thinking_ about being a mother changes you. Maybe this will be the good change that you two need."

"Bloody hell, I hope so."

* * *

 _This wasn't sex. Sex was a one night stand, scratching an itch. Sex was what they did any other normal time._

 _This wasn't fucking. Fucking was wild and rough and desperate. Fucking was what they had done earlier._

 _This was something different entirely. Killian was on top of her, his hands holding hers by her head as he moved inside her with slow, deliberate thrusts, not looking away from her eyes._

 _It sent shivers through her, heightening the sensations already coursing through her body._

Make me forget _, he'd told her earlier. And she knew that he'd forgotten, because while grief sobered his expression, that wasn't the emotion in his eyes as they locked on to hers. He was consumed by something else entirely._

 _Emma had never_ made love _before. She thought it was a stupid expression. But as she felt the shivers rippling through her from his gaze alone, she knew where the phrase came from._

 _This was making love._

 _The thought sent a new shiver through her, a shiver of fear, and it allowed her to look away and break her gaze off from Killian. He let go of her hands, leaning down and wrapping his arms around her as he buried his face against her shoulder, never ceasing the movement that fueled the ever growing fire inside her. She could feel the sensation building, and knew she'd reach her crest soon. She moved a little faster, wanting to finish and wanting to break this deliberate rhythm of his._

 _He followed her example, moving faster and harder, going deeper. "I love you," he murmured against her shoulder, letting out a guttural grown. "Bloody hell, Swan, I love you."_

 _She gasped, half from his words and half from the overwhelming sensation of her climax. As they came to a slow, stuttering halt, Killian pressed a kiss to her shoulder._

 _Her heart was pounding, and it wasn't from the sex._

 _He rolled off of her, laying on the bed next to her. Emma turned on her side, studying his face as he closed his eyes and let out a sigh of contentment._

 _"Killian," she breathed._

 _"Mmm."_

 _"Do you—are you drunk?" It was her last desperate safeguard. If she knew he was drunk—_

 _"No." He turned his head to look at her again, his eyes steady as he met her. She knew he wasn't drunk now._

 _"Are you going to remember this tomorrow?" she asked warily._

 _"No."_

 _Maybe he was drunk. Maybe he hadn't quite worked off the alcohol from earlier, and then combined with what they had drank a little while ago—he'd drunk quite a bit more than her, and even she was slightly buzzed from that. She didn't know what to think, but she laid there as he curled up against her. He was asleep within minutes._

 _Emma stared down at the black haired head on her chest. She wanted to cry, looking at him._

 _He loved her. He_ loved _her. And it wasn't just hearing him say it that made her realize it. It was his actions, the way he moved. She had a feeling he had been in love with her for much longer, and she'd been ignoring the signs. She didn't want to know he was in love with her, because that begged another question that she refused to answer again._

 _Was she in love with him?_

 _She didn't want to answer, but as she stared at him, as she couldn't help but run her hands through the messy strands of hair that was barely dry, she knew her answer._

 _She couldn't say he was just her best friend. Best friends didn't have sex like_ that _with each other. Best friends didn't avoid each other because they were worried about feelings. Best friends didn't spend hours in bed with each other, letting him hold her because she knew he needed someone._

 _She'd dropped everything at home when she'd heard about Liam. She knew Killian would need her, knew it instinctively even if he hadn't bothered to call her, and she'd been right. She'd been taking care of him this whole night. She hadn't left him alone. For the first time in their weird non-relationship, she'd been taking care of him instead of him taking care of her. He'd always taken care of her, even when they weren't sleeping together. But she'd never taken care of him in the same way._

 _Tonight had been different, and it scared her shitless, because she knew the answer to that question._

* * *

David came in the door, and Killian started, turning towards him. "Emma—"

David held up a hand, stalling Killian's question. "She's going for a drive. She needs to think, and she needs to be alone, but she told me to tell you that she promises she'll be at your place before midnight."

Killian sighed, shaking his head, and David grimaced, looking at Mary Margaret. "I guess you win," he muttered. "Killian, what the hell?"

Killian looked up at him warily, body tensing. He was ready for the wrath of Emma's big brother, but it didn't seem to be coming. David just let out a deep breath, rubbing his jaw and giving Killian an exasperated look. "I know this is just as much her fault as it is yours that you two are in this situation. She explained it to me, what I couldn't guess. But I'm not going to scold her, because she's my sister and doesn't need to hear it from me. So I'm going to tell you—don't screw this up. You better fix it, and fix it fast."

David glanced at Mary Margaret. "She and Ruby can get on Emma's case."

"Hey!" Mary Margaret exclaimed. David gave her a helpless look, and Mary Margaret rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'll talk to Emma."

"You," David ordered, pointing at Killian. "Fix it. Fix it, because if she runs now then we might never see her again."

Killian nodded. "I'll do my damnedest."

* * *

 _Tears slid down Emma's face as she slowly got out of bed, trying not to wake Killian. She always tried so hard not to let anyone see her cry. She was good at it. Tears were a weakness, and she was good at hiding her weaknesses. She was good at walls and fronts. She was not good at dealing with emotions, at dealing with relationships._

 _That was why she had to leave. She was one messed up person. If she and Killian…if he loved her, she was only going to mess him up. She had to leave, end this thing they had so that he could move on with his life. She knew he couldn't truly love her. And if he did love her, by some miracle, it wasn't fair that she couldn't love him back._

 _So she was doing the only thing she could do. Run._

 _"I'm sorry, Killian," she whispered, shaking as she pulled on her clothes. Her voice was thick, and she could feel her nose starting to run. "I'm sorry that I can't stay. I'm sorry I can't tell you I love you because I think I might but I can't. I can't do this."_


End file.
